The gang is mostly all here to talk CONCACAF Champions Cup results and preview the next round, talk some signings across the board, discuss the resignation of Dino Rossi, the limbo of Tristan Henry, talk some #CanWNT and the Gold Cup, and the usual malarkey. In this episode, Kristin gushes over the postings of Mr. Fishhead in our comments, Mark regales the story of Mr. Noodles (amongst other things) and Duncan reads between the lines of a kit explainer like a good investigative journalist would.
Show Rundown
- Segment 1: What’s been happening (9m15s)
- Segment 2: What we’re talking about (41m16s)
- Segment 3: What’s coming up (1h33m16s)
Show References
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February 15, 2024
What’s this! I searched the whole world… wide web for a secluded obscure spot to hold a few moments of my nonsense. For my ramblings are an acquired taste only for a discriminating few, not for the masses. Others online might be quick and crude. Perhaps they say,”TFC sucks and Bill Manning is a dummy!”
But I prefer the scenic route rather than the expressway. Their are so many sights to see! And don’t forget to stop by that place with the delectable chicken tenders. It’s a tasty treat!
But that is not to say I am of a higher class, far from it. For I have no degree, all my smarts are from da streetz.
Now here you parade me to others as a circus freak to the amusement of others. How can I perform under such pressure? I have doubts how these words below will be received, proceed with caution…
You might wonder why open a Private eye office in this two bit town called Toronto? So maybe in your town the ice was thawing today. But here on these dirty streets its frozen and the hearts are even colder. The only water I can see dripping… are tears.
Well dirty streets and sob stories means a pretty penny is going to be made by somebody doing a little snooping. And I thought I fit the bill for this kind of work. If it ain’t me then it will be another second rate private eye raking in all that sweet cash.
And low and behold, she comes prancing into my office in her stilettos. Hard to not notice a lady like that. And she puts a fistful of pennies and a Canadian dollar bill on my desk. She knew my price. I haven’t seen money like that in years! And I always say why leave money on the table? I got something real nice waiting for me at the local dollar store.
She was distraught, weeping like a baby with a diaper full of something… This story smelled bad! It stunk worse than a skunk and raccoon fighting over this town’s trash. She told me about the sordid affair that turned deadly. Someone murdered Toronto FC’s season. She pleaded with me to take the case before another season was killed.
I looked through the pictures, I’ve seen some nasty sights in this line of work but this was almost too much for my stomach to take. The mangled body of TFC’s season was clear for everyone to see. Even the blind couldn’t deny it. The pics didn’t lie, the butchered body of last season was taken out with no mercy. Things can get real ugly in this part of town.
So I sent the dame on her way, telling her it was her lucky day, I was opening this case. It was going to be a hard nut to crack. But I got the tools to break this case wide open. And for what she’s paying me, I got to at least knock on a few doors, pry open a file cabinet and ask the tough questions.
So I went to the scene of the crime, BMO Field. Back in the day they had bright dreams in this place. But these days it’s darker than any alley in this town. The fans were in misery, I’ve seen more joy at a funeral.
Now anyone in town will say lady luck is fickle around here. Bad streaks come and go with the cards you’re dealt with. But this wasn’t a regular losing streak. No doubt about it. This league shuffles the deck and your bound to see an ace sooner or later. It’s just a matter of playing the ace at the right time. You don’t need to be a King or Queen to rule this league. A Jack from Columbus will do. Only a joker wouldn’t know how to play those cards…
Looking around, I peeked at those kicking the ball. The crew on the field didn’t seem happy, everyone looking behind their back… Shady deals and double crossing will put a damper on things. But was it enough to kill the season? Seemed to me some were kicking a ball and chain at the penitentiary. Others looked so stiff they belonged in the morgue.
Of course some whispers about the Italians. They put a con on some sucker. But now the jig was up. No one was going to buy the scam they were selling. Not Europe and not even the Saudis. They were stuck in this town, with all their dirty money. Complain all they want but with that kind of cash they can dry their tears real nice. The biggest heist in this town, some say. But these bandits didn’t hide their deeds. Were they the culprits of this fiasco? It’s an easy answer… But never just read the headlines on the front page of the local paper. Always check at the back of the paper… The obituaries….the ones no longer with TFC.
The Bradley’s were seen running out of town. Father and son, sprinting all the way to Norway. Running that fast they must of seen something real bad. What got them so spooked? Let’s be real, daddy Bradley was just the fall guy. He was bumped off real hard and ridden right out of town.
Maybe this all starts right at the very top?
Was it the Don? Don Garber is the biggest crime boss this side of the Atlantic, but he’s got bigger fish to fry. He’s guilty of a lot of things but this isn’t his style. His specialty was counterfeit cash, passing off his Garber bucks as the real McCoy.
No, he won’t bother with towns up north. He’ll never take the bait off a hook on the shores of Lake Ontario. He wasn’t one for ice fishing. And these days he’s busy fishing for the big one in Florida.
It had to be one of the suits down the food chain. Don wouldn’t deal with minnows. Was one of these fish in town actually a shark? I smelled something big, it wasn’t a fish but it sure was foul…
The clues were getting hot. They all pointed to one place. The big office in town. The front office. And their he was, the big man in his business suit and shiny shoes. Bill Manning was the man in charge.
I wanted answers, and I wanted them now! I was going to ruffle his feathers, and put some heat on this turkey. If I needed to, then a stuffing is what he was going to get. In this town you got to be ready to get your hands dirty.
So I proceeded to roast him good, hotter then a Thanksgiving dinner. He didn’t even try to fly the coop.
He kept drinking his coffee like everything was fine. A big talker, he squawked real good. He didn’t get hot under the collar, and stayed as cool as a turkey out of the freezer.
Well I had enough of this charade and yelled, “Don’t play dumb with me!”
And then I realized that this bird brain wasn’t playing. It was no act!